


Complicated

by FlyUsOutOfHere



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eventual Stanley Uris/Richie Tozier, F/M, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Neglectful Maggie Tozier & Wentworth Tozier, Panic Attacks, Post-Pennywise (IT), Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Has ADHD, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Richie Tozier Loves Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Richie Tozier-centric, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Stanley Uris Loves Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris Needs a Hug, Stanley Uris-centric, Stanley's Dad sucks, Therapy, richie cares more about his friends than he cares about himself, the losers aren't gonna be big in this but they'll be here, they dont abuse him they just ignore him and leave him alone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:41:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyUsOutOfHere/pseuds/FlyUsOutOfHere
Summary: "Richie would always make sure his friends were safe and happy and healthy, even if it meant shutting up and being a shoulder to cry on sometimes."ORStanley is struggling with his OCD and all the Losers are struggling with the aftermath of Pennywise, and Richie feels like it's his job to help the Losers, and he kinda puts aside his own problems for Stan and his friends.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer - I am not diagnosed with OCD, so if it's potrayed badly here, I'm really sorry and please let me know. I did research on it and I talked to some friends, but still, if it's in any way bad or wrong, PLEASE tell me!  
> Thanks for reading, I love kudos and comments

After the clown, after the stupid  _ fucking  _ clown, all of the Losers changed. 

Bill became more protective over his friends. Ben refused to enter the library. Bev started hanging out with her friends constantly, afraid to be left alone. Mike became terrified of anything involving fire (so Richie and Bev made sure to never smoke around him). Stan would never go into his father’s study, even when Mr. Uris demanded he do so. Eddie, even though he was aware that his medicine was all fake, made sure to always have his inhaler with him. And Richie would always make sure his friends were safe and happy and healthy, even if it meant shutting up and being a shoulder to cry on sometimes. 

Though the events that lead to these changes were terrible, the changes itself cannot be seen as too harmful. Yes, all of the Losers would be better off without these side effects, but they were bearable. The new guidelines were simple: don’t make stupid, reckless decisions around Bill, don’t mention the library in front of Ben, don’t ditch Bev without telling her, don’t do anything with fire with Mike around, and don’t tease Eddie about his inhaler. 

When Stan was formally diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, he was nervous about telling his friends. They all knew about Eddie’s anxiety, and they made sure to never do anything that would upset Eddie too much. And Richie’s ADHD was never talked about, but it didn’t take a genius to tell that the local trashmouth was not a trashmouth by choice. But Stan was still scared. What if they thought of him as weak, or wierd, or a freak? 

So Stan went to his best friend, his maybe-more-than-a-friend, Richie Tozier, for advice. 

“What can I do you for, Stanny?” Richie asked as he opened his front door and beckoned Stan to come inside. 

“Can we talk?” Stan asked, his voice unusually dull. Richie shot him a questioning glance, before quickly nodding and leading the slightly shorter boy to his bedroom. Richie’s parents weren’t home, which certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary for him. 

“So what’s up?” Richie asked once he closed the door to his room. Luckily, the bedroom wasn’t too messy, as the Losers had come over the day before (his parents had still been gone) and Richie always made sure to clean up for Eddie and Stanley.

“I went to the doctor yesterday,” Stan said, his voice still empty. His leg began to shake almost uncontrollably, and Richie gently put his arm around Stan’s shoulder. 

“I have O.C.D.” Stan said after a beat of silence. 

“Okay, Stanny,” Richie said, not knowing how to respond. 

“That’s all? ‘Okay’?” Stan said, letting out a small chuckle. 

“I don’t know, Stan, I mean, I always kinda figured.” Richie said, his tone still awkward. The silence returned. “Is there anything that I can do, so it’s not as bad?”

“Just don’t make a big deal out of it, and don’t be too messy, and numbers, the numbers. Too complicated, but three. Three is good, and multiples of three are good, but not nine. Not nine.” Stan said, sounding a little flustered. 

“Okay,” Richie said, nodding. “Wait, so does this mean I can’t fuck your mom anymore? ‘Cause that can get pretty messy.” 

“Beep beep, asshole,” Stan said, the angry words not matching his lighthearted tone. Richie laughed, and Stan is happy, because if Richie is laughing, then things are okay. And Richie is happy, because if Stan’s happy, so is he.

After that day, Richie makes sure to never mention the time if its 9 o’clock, and he makes sure his room is always decently clean whenever Stan comes over, and he makes sure that if the Losers go somewhere outside, he has an extra jacket available for Stan to sit on if he wants. The Losers notice; they notice everything about each other. But they don’t question it. It’s obviously between Richie and Stan, and they’ll be there, ready to listen, if Stan ever wants to tell them about it. 

Two months later, Stan’s father stops paying for his therapist. It wasn’t talked about; Stan had an appointment, he waited for his mother to drive him to that appointment, and she never did. Stan considered talking to his father about it, but conversations between the two of them had never ended well.

And it’s a Saturday, and it’s 9 o’clock in the morning, and Stan should be meeting with Ms. Jen and he should be talking and talking and talking to her and he should not be here, alone in his bedroom, no other noise but the constant  _ click, click, click _ ing of his clock. 

But what can you do? Things are never as they should be, and Stan knows this, and he hates it. He hates that he can’t just close his eyes and then open them and be  _ normal _ . It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair, Stan thinks to himself, over and over and over again. 

He’s okay, though. It’s all okay. He just needs a moment (or two, or maybe three) to calm down. It will be alright. 

Except it’s not. It’s not alright, nothing is alright. 

So Stan does the only logical thing he can think of: go to Richie’s. Richie will know what to do; he  _ always  _ knows what to do. Stan slowly lifts himself off of his bed, his palms sweaty and vision blurred. He walks down the stairs, and out the front door, ignoring the questions his mother shouts at him from the other room. 

He’s outside, and his brain leads him to his best friend’s house. And he’s knocking on the door, and it only takes Richie a few seconds to answer, because his parents  _ still  _ aren’t home. They came and went a few times in the last two months, but never stayed for more than a week and were always gone for at least two. But it’s okay. 

Richie’s leading Stan inside, gently pushing him onto the couch. Stan taps his leg,  _ 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 _ , and he realizes that he’s been holding his breath. 

“Stan, Staniel, breathe, come on,” Richie says, trying to sound calm but his voice still coming out strained. “You gotta breathe.” 

Stan tries, he breaths with Richie, in, out, in, out, in, out. The world gets a little less dizzy and Stan’s lungs aren’t screaming at him quite as loud. And then it stops. The seemingly never ending sense of dread and panic is gone, replaced by...nothing. Stanley feels nothing but absolutely drained and exhausted. Stan can feel the tears running down his cheek, but he can’t remember when the crying started, and he can’t seem to make himself  _ stop _ .

Richie and Stan sit still for a moment, Stan leaning on Richie’s shoulder and closing his eyes so long for each blink that it only takes a moment before he falls asleep. 

Stanley falls asleep on Richie, and Richie doesn’t mind. Richie tightens his grip on Stan, his hand softly but firmly holding on to Stan’s arm. 

Richie tries to fight sleep; he wants to stay up, making sure that when Stan wakes up he’s okay. But it’s hard for him to stay awake, especially when he hasn’t gotten a full night’s rest for weeks. 

So Richie allows his eyes to close, his pulse to slow down, his grip on Stan to relax. Richie allows himself to sleep, sleep because Stan is here and he is safe and comfortable, asleep on his shoulder. Richie allows himself to sleep because right now, in this moment, Stan is okay, and Richie can let himself go. 


	2. NOT A CHAPTER. AUTHOR UPDATE

Okay, so, between writing chapter one and now, I've gotten a referral for a diagnosis to see if I have OCD, and it's very likely that I do have it. At the time of writing this, I never thought I would have OCD or that I even slightly fit the criteria. But apparently I was wrong. I'm still kind of wrapping my head around it. But anyways, my symptoms are nothing like Stan's. I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can keep writing this story now that I know about me. I may slightly alter Stan's character, so it will be easier to write about him. I don't know. I realized, though, that my idea of what OCD is very stereotypical and possibly harmful. I don't want to hurt anyone and I don't want to feel guilty. Anyone have any ideas? Should I continue with Stan the way he is? Should I try to make his symptoms match mine more, so I can get more into his head as a writer? Do I delete it or abandon it?


End file.
